


Simon Says

by Tenthsun



Series: Not a Holmes [5]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Sebastian Moran and Mycroft Holmes, Mentions of Simon Crieff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenthsun/pseuds/Tenthsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a reason Martin always loses at this game…Simon blames the victim. And who’s to say he’s wrong? TRIGGER Warning: deals with the psychological aftermath of rape. Should have added this earlier. My apologies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simon Says

**Caitlin**

**_Simon says he’s exaggerating_** **.** Martin always did love a bit of attention, always was a bit of a whinger.

**_Simon says we shouldn’t believe him._** You know how Martin is, always did love a bit of drama, always ready to collapse into a good whinge.  I remember when Mum threw us that joint birthday party. I mean really?  What normal kid sacrifices the chance of a bit of cake and prezzies to steal all the balloons and go hide up in a tree? So what if it wasn’t his actual birthday, he got a party didn’t he? The cake said Caitlin AND Martin didn’t it?

**_Simon says it’s better this way._** Can you imagine, after a tantrum like that, how he’d be with Mum without either of us here? Frankly, I’m worried for her safety if Martin stays. I know Simon didn’t want to say too much but it’s obvious. Martin’s lost it. He’s too much for her to handle on her own. It’s better if he stays with that pilot friend of his or his posh new half-brother. Let them put up with his nonsense.

**_Simon says it was inevitable._** Martin was always going to meet a bad end. He could never just do what he was told! Our father tried and tried to put him on the right path but Martin just wouldn’t listen. Mum just checked out of the whole thing and let the two of them go at it. How he got the money he needed to get those flying lessons I’ll never know. I certainly wasn’t going to give it to him! Not that I had it to give. I’m surprised he didn’t come crawling after the money me and Simon got from dad. Not that we would have given it to him. Dad warned us before he died, “Don’t let him get away with it.” Still. You’ve got to give him that. He might be a whinger but he was never a beggar – or a thief. I suppose that’s something.

**Mum**

**_Simon says he should go live in London with that new half-brother of his_** , that posh, scary man in the expensive suits. But that’s not his family. WE’RE his family. He belongs with us, with me, here in the house he grew up in. I know he was never very happy here but where else does he belong? I told Simon he was just a bit wound up that’s all. It was just a little cheap crockery. I got it on sale. Nothing to get drastic about. And you know his father had all those friends in the carpenters’ guild. That wall can be repaired for practically nothing. Besides look at all the poor boy has been through. I mean, I mean clearly it was bad. Very bad. Policemen bad. But it’s not as if HE was the criminal. That foul man, that…that…Sebastian Moran – yes! That’s his name. HE’S the one who’s the criminal. He hurt my boy. He…he…I know they think I don’t know. But I KNOW. I know what he did. A mother can always tell… He…did things to him, things one man should never do to another. Oh, I know things are all modern now and everyone can stick their bits anywhere they like. But it’s still supposed to be consensual isn’t it? Or am I just hopelessly out of touch?

Whatever it was that happened, my boy didn’t ask for it. You can see it in his eyes. He has such lovely eyes, the color always shifting from blue to green like the sea, like that time we went to Brighton, like sunlight on waves. And now they’re just grey…and dead.

…I’m sorry it’s just…I’m okay…

And he’s always been so sensitive! A sweet boy, but sensitive. He used to drive us all up the wall with his little ways.  I love him but Martin’s always been a bit of work. And so tiring! I could never figure out what would make him happy. He could never seem to make friends. Not in our neighborhood anyway. Eventually I figured it was best just to let him get on with it and figure it out for himself.

He seemed happier when he enrolled in the Air Cadets. Him and those dratted aeroplanes! Ugh! I mean they’re fine for a hobby but as a career? We’re not posh! I mean, we’re the respectable sort but not the sort that flies aeroplanes. And so many tries to get his license! So much time wasted! And for what? I mean Simon, Caitlin, they’re both married, have homes and children.  What does Martin have?

They say this Sebastian Moran took him BECAUSE he was a pilot…

If only his father were here. George always knew how to handle him, get him straight. And I don’t care what a posh, scary man in an expensive suit says. George Crieff was Martin’s father. The only one he ever knew and the only one that counted. I know he wasn’t honest with Martin, with me, with any of us… but it doesn’t matter now. Martin is family. He’s my child regardless of whose body he came out of. I held him in my arms when he was only days old. I rocked him to sleep. I planned his birthday parties and bandaged his skinned knees. And maybe I didn’t always understand him. Maybe I could have helped him more with his father and certainly with his brother. It’s not that George didn’t like him or care. Of course he cared! He wouldn’t have left him the van if he hadn’t cared. And Simon has always been, well, all our hopes were pinned on Simon. He’s done so well! A seat on the council! And everybody loves him. He’s a son a mother can always be proud of! And of course Martin couldn’t be allowed to derail Simon’s career. That wouldn’t be fair to Simon.

But we all make mistakes… And it’s not as if we can get it right if he’s never here. It was just a cheap bit of crockery…

 

**Martin**

Yes, Simon, he fucked me. No I didn’t manage to fight him off. I was a wee bit drugged up at the time. And you know I’ve always been rubbish in a scrum. How many bloody noses and black eyes did I have to bring home before you cottoned onto THAT little fact? That’s old Martin for you, light as a feather and you can push him over just as easily. Oh and did I mention I was drunk? Yes, I’m apparently a lightweight there too although the doctors did speculate that he might have put something in my drink. Drinks. It doesn’t matter really. Because apparently, according to the scary older half-brother nobody told me I had, once he got a look at me and realized I was practically a clone of my OTHER older half-brother, my fate was sealed. He was GOING to have me, one way or another. How, when, and where were simply minor details.

So there you have it. There’s the story of your dirty, dimwitted, slut of a little brother who got himself raped, held captive and turned into a sex slave before being left starved and strapped down to a basement floor in South Croyden. Bet that tale’ll get you more than a few free drinks down at the pub. Make sure to tell Deakins won’t you? If I recall correctly, when he wasn’t pounding my face in, he was trying to pound other parts of my anatomy. Good thing I could at least run. Gosh, now I think about it, I might actually want to come along. Just to see his face when he discovers someone else got there first. D’you think he’ll be pissed? Well I mean of course he’ll be pissed. I mean do you think he’ll be angry? I hope he is. I hope he’s stark raving mad. I just want to tell him every detail, every time Seb-that man shoved me to my knees or bent me over a table or yanked my legs over his shoulders.

At least HE’LL appreciate it. Not like YOU lot. I mean why don’t you just shove me in a closet and get it over with? I’ll try not to drool too much. I promise not to make a sound when guests are over. They’ll never even know I exist. I mean that’s best isn’t it really? Better than walking down the street and having the neighbors pointing at your brother’s ass and counting up all the ways it’s been had. Maybe that’s what I should have been using the van for. I would have made a damn sight more money that way.  

Yes it HURT…

Yes I cried…and screamed…you can’t imagine how much it hurt. It felt like I was being sheared in two. It still does.

Yes I came. He made me. All the time. Whenever he could.  That’s what makes me want crawl into a hole and stay. My body betrayed me. And now I just…I just want to…I don’t know, unravel myself and disappear. Remember that time you stole my kite and you let the string unwind and unwind until it finally snapped and the wind blew my kite away? Yeah like that. I dream about being that kite, just leaping onto a breeze and being carried away. …all right, all right, laugh if you want to. I’ve always amused you haven’t I? …no, I’m not going to fight you. How can I? You’re right. You’ve always been right.

**_Simon says Martin is a wanker._** Well I am aren’t I? I can’t even manage to actually get paid like a real pilot or at all really and yet I somehow manage to get myself kidnapped like a real pilot as if my flying ability or, hell, even myself actually could matter to someone.

**_Simon says Martin is a whinger._** It’s true isn’t it? Here I am whining about everything months later like I’m still getting fucked every night.  

**_Simon says Martin is a weakling._** If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have woken up in a dungeon would I? I would have fought him off, killed myself, or run. I spent all of 5 th, 6th, and 7th form running from Deakins, you’d think that would have given me an edge, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. If it had been YOU, you would have escaped or beaten the shit out of him so bad he would have had to let you go. Or kill you.

No, of course I wouldn’t want him to kill you! I’m sorry Simon! Please, I’m sorry! I don’t know what I’m saying…

**~Fin~**

**Author's Note:**

> I suspect there was a heck of a lot more going on in the Crieff household than is apparent and poor Martin got the brunt of it. Oh nothing overtly violent or sexual. But you do know that words can hit like a fist, right?
> 
> I don't usually update this early but this grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. It isn't perfect but it's demanding to be posted, so here you go.


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